Open Range
by HungerG94
Summary: For Elaine Sadwong, a fifteen year old girl from District 10, life changes forever when when she is reaped for the 74th Hunger Games and her best friend is thrust in with her for trying to save her. Join her as she tries to do everything in her power to save him while remaining herself in the process. Read and Review
1. The Tributes

**Part I – The Tributes**

District 10

Description:

Elaine Sadwong

Age: 15

Birthday: August 2nd

Race: Asian

Height: 5'5''

Weight: 125lbs.

Slight and toned from hard work; agile and quick thinker

Marko Sanchez

Age: 16

Birthday: March 5th

Race: Hispanic

Height: 6'4''

Weight: 177lbs.

Toned and muscular from hard work; strong and quick reflexes


	2. Chapter 1

Having lounged in my bed yet wide awake all night, I stop trying to fall asleep and force myself upright. I watch from the cot on the floor that I share with my twin sister, Lena, as my older adoptive brother, Leon, walks in. He's just coming back from his graveyard shift as barn manager. When he sees me watching he nods a silent hello.

I hear his robotic voice call out to me. That monotone voice is our perennial reminder of his final battle before winning the games. I still clearly recall watching the fight—the District 4 boy slashed his throat right as he stabbed him through the heart. They were able to recreate his damaged voice box with artificial vocal cords. I used to wonder why he even bothered working, considering that he's Capitol rich from winning the 66th games. Eventually, he sat me down and explained that he couldn't stand the endless nightmares of his dead love and arena horrors. He needed the morning light to sleep and something to occupy his endless time. He needed to feel normal again.

"Elaine, you should probably wake your sister and check to see that the horses are alright and hooked to the wagon properly before you get dressed," says Leon. Crap! I had actually managed to forget what wretched day this was. Reaping day; the day that is dreaded by every District except for 1, 2, and 4. Those three Districts actually volunteer to head into what is almost certain death. They believe doing so brings honor to their District. I hate their guts. Everyone hates the Careers—except, well, the Careers themselves. And the Capitol. Almost all of the winners of the Games, or 'Victors', originate from one of three Districts. You rarely see a Victor from any other District. The reason for this is that Districts 1, 2, and 4 train- illegally I might add- practically their whole lives, giving them an unfair advantage over the other Districts.

In short we call them Career Tributes or 'Careers'. I have a theory that there are only three reasons why a career doesn't win. The first is that they aren't particular fond of one another, as was the case one year when every single Career managed to kill each other over a petty argument. The second is that they underestimate the tributes from other Districts. An example of this is the year that Johanna Mason of District 7 won by feigning weakness early on so others wouldn't look to her as a threat only to show she had the wicked ability to kill. The third reason also ties into second the reason in a way; they have an insatiable need for blood. The year that Beetee of District 3 won, he used that against them by leading them into a water-covered area and, by using a coil of metallic wire and the lightning storm happening at the time, electrocuted them all to death. Unfortunately, the Careers are on their "A" game most of the time, leaving everyone without a chance.

I gently shake Lena so that she will wake up. "Wake up Lena Beana," I call her by her nickname. It's what Dad used to say all of the time on the account of her being as skinny as a string bean. He- "I'm awake, I'm awake," Lena mumbles crankily. She sits up rubbing the last bits of sleep from her eyes. I relay everything Leon told us to do back to Lena. She nods her head and makes to get up. "I will go check on Abel and Marcy. I'm pretty sure you want to go see Marko." She draws the 'o' of his name out excessively long. At the mention of my longtime best friend I blush. "I knew it. Go ahead and find him." I just nod my head in assent instead of responding because of my fear of babbling. I tie up the strings of my boots; grab the tattered coat that belonged to my mother, and the dress I plan on wearing to the Reaping.

When I'm almost through the door, Lena speaks up one more time. "Give Marko my regards and wish him good luck on the Reaping. Don't forget to come." That goes without saying considering that attending the Reaping is mandatory. The only way you don't attend is if you're at death's door. Even then your family must leave you to face it alone. "I will and of course I won't forget, Lena," I say to appease her- she's such a worrywart sometimes- and shut the door behind me.

After leaving out the door, I head around the back of our one bedroom, one bath cottage to the looming barn house. I head straight towards my baby, Milo, and pet his mane to which he whinnies appreciatively. Due to his black and white spotted coat, I call him my little cow-horse. For four years I have had him. He was given to me by my Mom- I shut down the thought as quickly as it appears. Even though it has been nearly four years since my parents' death, I don't like to think about it. Instead as I check to make sure Milo's saddle and reins are secured into place, I think of Marko.

I have known him since the age of five. At that age and time, I couldn't stand the sight of him. He was always so quiet, observing every little detail. He also managed to push all of my buttons. Eventually after being assigned to a herd of cattle to graze and corral, we grew close. Over many misadventures (one time we were chased by a pack of coyotes because Marko attacked one of their young; we eventually had to stand back to back and kill them all, Marko with his bladed bow and me with my metallic whip and daggers) we began to see each other as friends. He has become an important part of my life. At some point I realized I have feelings for him more than a friend. 'And there is a strong chance of him getting reaped.' The thought makes me shudder. His name is entered over twenty times due to him putting in for tesserae (a year's worth of oil and grain, one for him, his mom, and little brother.) Unlike what our idiotic escort, Fuchsia, says, the odds are not in his favor. He has more of a chance being reaped than Lena and I do. Lena is entered in only four times. I'm entered six times because I took in tesserae for the both of us when we turned twelve. It was right before Leon had taken us in. He gave up his house in District 10's Victors Village to take us in because our fathers were best friends and they wouldn't allow anyone without shared blood to move into the village. I was so thankful that I gave it to him. He was furious and made me promise to never sign for more again, that he would provide for us. He even offered money to Marko, but he declined. Boys and their egos!

Before I am even aware of it, I have reached Marko's cottage, which is two and a half miles away. I hop down from Milo's saddle and tie his reins up to the porch. I then walk up to the front door. Marko pulls it open before I get a chance to knock, then pulls me into a bear hug. I return it, taking the opportunity to bury my face into his neck. All too soon he pulls back and lets me go. To draw attention away from the blush on my face, I say, "Lena told me to tell you hey and good luck with, you know," in a breathy voice. I instantly regret it. His hazel eyes darken and the smile on his face fades. I can tell that he is about to enter into one of his rants, so I lay down my dress, a tan spaghetti strap that hugs my curves and reaches down to my fingertips (mid-thigh), and sit on a stool by him.

"I hate the fucking Capitol. They think they can control us, bend us to their will", he begins.

"That's because they can, Marky," I call him my pet name for him. "They have us in their total control. We're under the constant watch of their peacekeepers. We can't interact with the other Districts. We're forced to ship off friends and family to be slaughtered like the livestock we care for."

"We could stop watching the Games. If no one watched there would be no point in having them. We could find ways to get into contact with the other Districts. We could spark a new rebellion. It's been done before."

His eyes gleam at the possibility of this actually coming to fruition. I can't believe he's actually suggesting this. If anyone heard this and reported on him… my thoughts and fears for him must show some what on my face because his expression softens. He grabs my hand pulling me up from the stool.

"There's always another choice," he says softly, looking intently into my eyes. "We could run away, away from District 10."

I stare blankly up at him. Is he really serious about this? He must think I am taking this news bad because he continues. "We could make it. With my bow and your whip and daggers, we would be able to hunt." He makes reference to the weapons we were assigned for when we grazed the cattle (to be clear, most District 10 grazers are nineteen and up; we were rare cases due to a mix up in paper work; they kept us on when they saw our skill at grazing.) They were issued in case we came across anything that would threaten the cattle: foxes, snakes, coyotes, and the rare muttations, or mutts, like the mongoose-mountain lion. Those very weapons that he spoke of were, as of now, locked in the weapon cache, guarded by peacekeepers.

"We don't have those right now. They're locked away." He steps away and opens the cabinet beside the front door. Moving some papers and his mother's knitting supplies; he shows the weapons I know like the back of my hand. "How did you-""When we l went back into the cache yesterday, I unlocked the window. I snuck in later that night. Nearly got caught b-." He stops when I gasp. "That's not the point. We have weapons. I know the peacekeepers' guarding the ridge's schedule- do not ask me how. We could make it, leave right now." He's looking at me with so much hope that it is hard to answer. But I do.

"We can't. Lena wouldn't last a day, we couldn't just abandon Leon. Have you told your mom about this? What about Jacob? We-"He cuts me off mid-sentence by putting his finger on my lip. "I'm sure I could convince her, Leon, and Lena to the idea. And Jake would be fine. You still haven't given me a definite answer." I just stare at him. "Come on, Elaine. We don't have to leave today. At least think about it." He looks at me expectantly. The idea is dangerous and stupid, but I decide to appease him. Hopefully he will leave the whole deal alone

"Okay"

He pulls me instantly to him, wrapping his arms around my waist. "Thank you," he mutters into my hair.

O0o ~ o0O

An hour and half long wagon ride afterwards, we arrived to the Market Place, the center of District 10 and where the Reapings take place. A stage is constructed in the center, right in front of the Justice Building, where our escort, Fuchsia, will stand to deliver her speech on how wonderful the Games are. She will then give our Mayor, Marshall Levine, free reign to drone on about the history of Panem, of how we lived in prosperity until the Districts rebelled. He will then talk about how the Capitol essentially shut us down, ending the Dark Days, and issued out the beginning of the Hunger Games. It is always the same each year, only ending with two poor souls being sent to their demise.

I hop down with Marko from his mother's wagon while she goes to find a place to leave it. Marko's miniature version, Jacob, who, thank God, is only eight, looks down at us and smiles.

"Well I guess I will see you when this is over," I say to Marko. "Yeah," he says absentmindedly. "A shame you have to dress up so nicely only to watch someone get shipped off to death." Besides the obvious dreadful ending, I blush at the somewhat comment while twirling a strand of my hair through my fingers. "You don't look so bad yourself." He's wearing a white dress up shirt and black neck tie with black dress pants and shoes. His cheeks tinge red a little and he runs a hand through his short cropped, black hair.

Suddenly, I am being whisked off. "Okay, you lovebirds. We have to get going. You'll have plenty of time to get in each others pants," says Lena, pulling me to the fifteen year old girl's section. She's wearing a white dress with red polka dots. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail with a few strands shaping her face. I look back to see Marko waving. I wave back then watch him until he disappears in the sixteen year old boy's section. Lena leads the way until she finds space near the back and on the edge of the group.

After a few minutes, Fuchsia steps on to the stage. This year green is apparently her new favorite color. She was dressed in every shade of it from her light green hair falling down her back in rivulets to the deep forest green of her jacket and pants. Her blouse and heels were almost a golden grass green. Her jewelry was a rainbow of itself, but the most startling of all were her eyes. They were no longer the shade for which she is named, but an almost electrifying green around the edges and molten near the pupils. The Capitol is so weird.

She gave her usual speech and, like expected, passed the microphone over to Mayor Levine. I ignored his speech and instead sought out a familiar face. I found Leon standing to the side with the few other Victors of District 10. They all had degrees of sorrow on their faces. They basically had to watch as one or, more likely, both tributes met gruesome ends.

I was jolted back into the moment when I heard Fuchsia speaking," and may the odds be ever in your favor." My eyes stayed trained on her as she went to the girl tribute ball. She spun it three times before stopping it with her long fingernails. I began to silently pray for Lena's safety and others around me took sudden intakes of breath or placed last minute bets as she grabbed the slip out. 'Please don't be Lena, Please don't be Lena.'

Fuchsia opened the slip in her hand and then read aloud, "Congratulations to the 74th Hunger Games District 10 female tribute." She pauses for dramatic effect.

"Elaine Sadwong!"

**R/R **


	3. Chapter 2

The silence is so thick, it is nearly intangible. I am completely frozen in shock. My limbs are nearly frozen into place, leaving me stuck in my current position. It is almost as if I have gotten another dose of the neurotoxin from the bite of a mongoose-mountain lion, leaving me in a state of paralysis where I can hear everything but do nothing to interact with the surrounding area. I know I must be certainly crushing Lena's poor hand. 'Lena'! My head turns on its own accord to my twin sister. The tears are rolling down thickly on her face and I soon realize that she is screaming bloody murder.

I lift my other hand to calmly stroke through her hair as she wraps her arms around me and shrieks out incoherent words. I feel the eyes of everyone in the surrounding area on us. Many let out breaths of relief because their daughters, sisters, friends were spared. Others let out maniacal laughter at the joy of winning their bets or moans, groans, and curses for losing. Sick bastards! Every girl around us takes a few steps away as if we are infected, assuming that one of the two of us are the girl that was called a few moments ago. From the corner of my eye I see a group of four peacekeepers moving in to possibly man handle someone onto the stage. Their eyes linger on Lena's hysterical form, watching her every movement. 'They must think she is me.' Giving her one last squeeze, I break away from Lena and step out from the group.

Lena finally gathers some coherency saying, "No, no please. Don't take her. She's my sister. Please!" I can hear the tear-jerking sobs that are racking at her chest. I almost turn around to console her like I did so many times when we were younger, like I did when we were left to the unknown, alone and parentless at the age of twelve. But I force myself not to knowing that I can't afford the tears that will surely fall. I can not risk having the other tributes believing I am weak. It could be the matter of life and death.

I meet the peacekeepers halfway up the path to the stage. They instantly surround me, two in front of me and two behind me, and then continue their procession to the stage. Do they think I would really risk trying to escape? To be honest, it doesn't sound like a bad idea. As if my thoughts are being read, a huge commotion erupts in the midst of the crowd when we reach the bottom stair.

"Get out of the way, get out of the way. He's gone mad." The random shouts reflect back through the square, adding to the panic of everyone gathered here. I look back to see Marko riding Milo in full gallop to where I am. The look on his face is a combination of pure fury and determination. I can't exactly hear what he is saying over all of the noise, but I catch the gist when he holds out his hand. By now the peacekeepers that were surrounding me have abandoned post in order to avoid getting trampled to death. By luck I manage to grab his hand and, using the momentum, Marko swings me onto the saddle behind him. I quickly wrap my arms around his waist.

He veers sharply off to the right, nearly slamming into the platform. We rush pass where Fuchsia is standing and the gust of air left in our wake makes her legs buckle, sending her sprawling on her butt. She lets out an indignant squawk and pounds the ground like a child. In any other circumstance this would be hilarious, but considering the fact that I have just been reaped kills any amusement I may have felt. Not to mention that my best friend decides to play hero and rescue me from this shitty fate, only now he's tangled him self into the mix.

"Marko, why did you do this? They are going to hunt us down, you know. Why didn't you just let it happen?" I ask him this as best as I can while being throttled around on Milo's saddle. He doesn't answer me which further upsets more than I already am. "Marko now is **not** the time for you to go mute on me. Do you not understand that this will have consequences? Oh God, they could hang you in the square or torture you publicly as a warning to others. They might take this as an act of rebellion. Might? What am I saying might for? They will see it as rebellion." By now we are far out of the Market Place and on one of the many dirt roads of District 10. Marko slows Milo's gallop to a slow trot until he finally stops. I glance around at our surroundings, at the prairie grass waving gently in the breeze, at the soft puffy clouds gliding in the blue sky. How could such a hellish day look so beautiful?

I feel Marko shaking in my arms. For a moment I believe he is crying. My chest tightens and in an attempt to comfort him I lay my head in the crook of his neck. From this position I have a clear view of his face. Instead of the tears and grief I am expecting, I see him laughing; his eyes are squeezed shut and his face is red from the force of which he is laughing. I make a disgusted noise, let him go, and hop from Milo's back. I start to make my way from him. How dare he laugh at my concern for him, at my present situation? I think of walking home but three things stop me. The first is that from our current location, it would take to nightfall for me to get back. The second is the obvious reason: I have been reaped for the 74th Hunger Games. It isn't like they will just let me go. 'Oh you decided to make tail on the back of some horse and delay your reaping so I guess we'll give you a reprieve. Go back to your life as you knew it.' As if. The third is the strong calloused hand grabbing my wrist and turning me around.

"Don't be mad _Mi chava_. I wasn't laughing at you. Okay I was, but only because I think it's cute when you babble. I know you're worried about me and think what I did was stupid, but I couldn't just sit there and let them take you. The Capitol has done a lot of shitty things but I couldn't let them make you apart of it. I couldn't lose you. Not you."

This is crazy. Many other people have watched their friends go into the Games and done nothing to stop it. Even blood has no relative meaning when faced between giving up your life and protecting your brother or sister by taking their place. So why couldn't he let me go. Why was I so important?

"Marko, that doesn't make any sense. Why risk your safety for me? You know how twisted the Capitol is. If they are able to send kids as young as twelve into a no holds barred battle royale, do you think they will have a problem with sniping out a few District 10 peasants?" He already knows the answer. They wouldn't give a damn. Marko's mom, little Jacob, Lena. They'd just be another few notches added to the Capitol's belt of murdering the innocent. Even Leon, though they'd have a harder time explaining the killing of a Victor. My words must reach through to him because a grimace appears on his face and his eyes flash with hatred. But almost as instantly it's gone and the look of – no it can't be, he just cares for me a lot. I'm just a good friend. The next words to leave his mouth shock me.

"I don't care. I doubt that they would go after our families because of the risk it would pose. The bastards wouldn't want to spark a rebellion now would they? I don't regret anything I've done. I won't let them hurt you. I lo-." He suddenly cuts off and turns his head to the side. He wasn't about to say what I think he was, was he?

"You what, Marko? What were you about to say?" I press on. He still won't make eye contact; his head is now facing me but his eyes are landing everywhere but my face. I can feel myself getting excited. I know that I might be giving my hopes up for nothing, but if I don't, I might regret it for however long I might live. What is there to lose?

"Marky come on. Please tell me. I don't see why you don't want to say it."

"Because there is the possibility that you might not… ugh, dammit!"

"Just say it Marky. You may not get another chance." He looks at me with a wounded expression. "It's true. They are going to find us and send me to the Games. It's just a matter of when."

His eyes are pained, but are no longer confused. I guess he's made up his mind. "I have wanted to tell you this for almost a year now. Elaine, I'm in love with you. I-." I don't let him finish. I cover the little bit of space between us, pull his head down, and bring his lips to mine. At first he is frozen in shock. He quickly recovers, though, and his arms quickly snake around my waist pulling me even closer if that's even possible. This is like nothing I have ever felt before. I feel like there is a fire in the pit of my stomach, spreading through my veins, igniting me completely. I tangle my fingers into his short hair pulling slightly. He moans and I take the advantage by slipping my tongue into his mouth. He growls low in his chest then picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. I gasp in surprise. He then does what I did to him before. We eventually pull back, breathless. He lays his forehead against mine.

"I love you, Elaine," he says in a husky voice. "I love you, too." His hazel eyes shine warmly at me and for a moment I want to believe everything is alright. Unfortunately, all hell breaks loose.

"Oh how sweet," says a deep scratchy voice. We hurriedly break apart. The instant I am on the ground, Marko steps in front of me protectively. "Get the sedatives ready. They may be hostiles." There is a group of thirty or so peacekeepers with two cameramen in their buggy looking shell suits. Are they filming us? At first I am outraged. Who are they to film us for the rest of the country to see? Quickly that anger subsides when I see how the peacekeepers are acting. They clearly want to hurt us. But with the cameramen here filming their every move they have to hold back. Ironically we are being protected from the Capitol by the Capitol itself. I have little time to think this though when I see them make a move on Milo, who is moving restlessly.

I have just enough time to shout before they shoot him. Regardless of it being a sedative, all I see is my baby going down, landing with a hard thud on the hard-packed dirt. I move from behind Marko, evading from his attempts to grab me, and launch myself at the one holding the gun. I knock him over easily. I take his gun and proceed to smash it over his head, knocking him out instantly. I roll off of him, only to see a tranquilizer dart enter his right arm a moment later.

"Give me the gun you idiot since it's obvious you don't know how to use it," says someone in the fray, a woman. I don't hesitate to shoot aiming at everyone in the group. The mass breaks apart, dodging this way and that to avoid the oncoming barrage of tranquilizer darts. I glance over my shoulder to see that four peacekeepers have gotten around me and are now attacking Marko. He dodges the punch of one while grabbing the fist of another. He pulls the person to him, using their arm to wrap around their neck. He holds on while fighting off the others until the person falls unconscious. He lets him fall then kicks the next guy's leg up from under him, lifting him into the air, then grabs a hold on his neck and slams him down. I turn back around to see who is left; a good nineteen remain standing, not including the cameramen, while eleven are out for the count. Two have gotten into close range, so raising the gun like a plank of wood, I slam it into the gut of the woman who called out earlier. I swat away the other guys attempt to grab me and smash the butt of the gun into his arm. I hear a sickening crack meaning that I have broken his arm. He growls and punches me in the face. I feel my cheek swell instantly. I get angry, drop the gun and, with both hands, begin to claw down his face. He screams in pain and tries to back up, but trips over a rock.

His legs sprawl out, tripping me up and makes me land on top of him. I begin slapping him over and over and slam my hands into the shells of his ears. I only stop when I feel a sharp pinch in my left thigh. I look down to see a tranquilizer dart sticking out of my dress and the woman holding the gun I dropped. I'm only able to glance back to Marko, who is now fighting nine peacekeepers, once before my eyes fall shut and darkness claims me.


	4. Chapter 3

_Our cottage seems to have gotten larger somehow. The cot and knitted wool quilt, the black iron stove that doubles as a furnace during winter, the bookshelf by the front door that holds what few books Mom managed to obtain. I seem to have also shrunken in height. I glance down at myself to see miniature versions of my hands, arms, legs, feet. I run to the small bathroom to stare at the reflection of myself in the crack riddled mirror. I look the same way I do when I was eleven years old, from the bang covering my brown eyes and two braids hanging over my shoulders to the holey overalls with one strap left undone._

_This could only mean one of two things; I was either sent back into the past somehow which is highly unlikely, or I am having a dream. "Sweetie come on. We have to get to the market square," The dream then, or more appropriate, my reoccurring nightmare. We all had been heading to a smaller market place near the edge of District 10 trading off some of the cattle for whatever fresh produce was available and breed the horses. Lena had gone with Dad and me and Marko with Mom. As she made out a business deal with one of the many vendors in hopes of getting four bundles of greens and a few potatoes for one of our few cows, Marko and I had ventured off to explore the square. After some wandering aimlessly about, we decided to play hide and seek. We had not been paying attention to the change of weather, to the dark thick storm clouds gathering in the sky. I had hidden in a stack of hay. Mom had been calling our names. She found Marko, but I stayed hidden when she shouted my name. She eventually spotted my overall strap, pulled me from the hay, and headed to one of the three bunkers used for shelter against the hostile weather that occurred frequently during the summer._

"_I wonder where your father and sister are. You two stay here while I go back out. Do not leave the bunker." I should have said something, held onto her leg until I heard the wind howling, done anything to stop her. I didn't and she left and it was the last time I ever saw her alive. I eventually asked Lena about Dad. She said he'd left her too to come looking for us. A funnel of wind had come down from the sky, destroying the stands and picking up whatever was in its path. Among the debris were the occasional carcasses of livestock. Those who scavenged the area eventually found our parents' and a few others' bodies, mangled and broken, beneath the collapsed roof of the horse stable. They had found each other and died holding hands._

_The part I dread most is about to begin. I am standing in front of the group who found my parents. Lena, Marko, and I walk forward to say our final goodbyes. Lena turns on me and starts to cry, telling me that their death is my fault. _

"_You killed them. If you hadn't hidden in that hay stack, Mom wouldn't have left us to find you. We wouldn't have been separated and they wouldn't have left the bunkers to be killed by the funnel. It's your entire fault." _

_I try to say that it wasn't my fault, that I didn't know that this would happen, but I can't. Her words hit home because I do feel that because of my childish game, my parents paid the price. Marko on the other hand tries to console me, telling me that I couldn't have known, that he was just as much in fault as I was, even more so, because he was the one that suggested we play._

"_Elaine you can't blame yourself for this. We had no way of knowing that they-"Lena lets out a blood curdling scream. We turn to see her being grabbed by our parent's corpses. She tries to shake them off, but with every grab she avoids and knocks aside, other lands, taking away bits of flesh. I try to run to her aid but Marko stops me. He pulls me back and tries to run away from the cries behind us but we are stopped by the mass behind us. They push us back, stopping our attempts to shove by their resistance. Seeing no hope of getting past we turn around to face our fate. _

_They have broken Lena's body, bone protruding from certain areas; her eyes have been gouged out, blood flowing freely form her eye sockets. Between the emptiness of her sightless gaze and the rotten whitening of my parents eyes, my stomach rolls and I empty its contents in violent waves. _

"_It's your fault that we're dead, you couldn't stay put and you couldn't even save me. You're worthless." They all repeat this and similar negative thoughts over and over, converging in on us ever so slowly. Those behind us began pushing us towards them. We fought as hard as we could to no avail; I was held down and made to watch as they tore Marko apart, limb from limb, him yelling and flailing around. Ultimately, he falls silent signaling his death. Then they come for me. I scream, beg, cry, and do anything to get free. They claw at me, scraping tissue, snapping bone. 'It's just a dream. I'm sleeping, that's all.' I say this again and again._

"_You must join us now. The only way is for you to-""_Wake Up!."

I shoot up into an upright position, bumping heads against whoever is above me. "Ouch," says a familiar voice irritably. Opening my eyes, I see that my vision is blurred. After a few moments of blinking away the haziness, I take a look at my surroundings. I am in very posh looking bedroom. The walls are a light blue, with the rest of the room following its color scheme. On one wall was a large panel filled with buttons of every shape, size and color and near it was the imprint of two doors spaced six feet apart. A built in cabinet was on the wall adjacent to it with a solid wooden door that probably led outside, wherever that was. On the wall opposite the exit was a large window. The drapes in front of it were pulled open showing – were we moving? Where are we?

I vaguely remember banging foreheads with someone not a second ago, so I look to my left to see Marko still rubbing his forehead. I practically hop over to him, straddling his hips, and wrap my arms around his waist. Burying my face into the crook of his neck, I feel the last bits of fear and unease from the nightmare slip away.

"Good to see you too, _Mi chava_." I can hear the smile and worry in his voice. I lift my head and kiss his lips softly, moaning when he deepens the kiss and wraps his arms around my waist. When we pull apart, I begin to question him.

"How long have I been out?"

"For at least three and a half hours," says Marko. "After the peacekeepers shot you with the tranquilizer dart, the ones still conscious converged on me. I tried to fight them off, but they had me outnumbered. They tried to get the cameramen to take you back and to send reinforcements. They refused. I think they knew what would happen if they did leave."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes glazed over remembering today's earlier events. "The cameramen had a distress button built into their suits. Within ten minutes a car was out to pick us up and a carrier for Milo. They threw us into the back and drove us back to the Market Place. They pulled me out and dragged me up the platform. They were going to hang me, like you guessed, but Leon and another Victor- Billie, I think- stopped them. They persuaded them to make me a tribute, saying that "I was more than likely going to be killed in the arena." The peacekeepers reluctantly agreed. The guy with the scratchy voice said, and I quote, "Good ridden. Hopefully you both will die a painful death." It took everything I had not to spit in his face."

I was so pissed at the comment that I couldn't stop the admission of "cutting off whatever bit of manhood he had between his legs." This caused Marko to snort. "I wouldn't worry too much about that. You fucked his face up pretty good, _Mi chava_. Besides, Billie didn't take the comment to well either. She kneed him hard in the nuts and when he was on his knees, punched him in the face. He let out a high pitched shriek. She got down on his level and said, "Watch what you say in front of me. Let your balls remaining in your gut be a reminder."

We both laugh. When we gain our breath back, Marko then goes on to tell that they release the handcuffs binding him. He then goes and retrieves me from the backseat of the car and carries me into the Justice Building.

"They allowed us to share one room because you were unconscious and I wouldn't let you go." His hold on me tightens and I snuggle closer to him. "They placed three peacekeepers in the room with us. They kept shooting us dirty looks. After maybe three minutes Lena, my mom, and Jacob came rushing through the doors. Lena about lost it when she saw you weren't moving. It took most of the forty-five minutes to convince her that you weren't dead. She made me promise some things and then they were taken away to the train station. We've been on the train for an hour."

Something seems off. He says the last bit a little too fast, as if he doesn't want me to guess at something he's said. I think about it for a second, and then the light bulb goes off in my head. "What did Lena make you promise?" He tenses a little and I swear I hear a muttered 'fuck'. What was it that she wanted you to do?" I am trying to keep it contained, but I can hear the anxiety rising in my voice. "Calm down, Elaine. It wasn't anything I wouldn't have done anyway."

"So, what is it? You can tell me if it's not that serious."

"She wanted me to protect you in the arena," says Marko finally. He stares intently in my eyes. "She wanted me to fight to get you back home." It takes no time for me to realize what he is saying. "Do you really expect me to allow you to sacrifice yourself trying to defend me?"

"No, I don't. You are to damn stubborn. I hoping on getting us to the final two- don't look at me like that, we can make it- and if it goes to plan," I cut him off. "You know that the odds of us even making it past the bloodbath are slim to none," I say, referring to initially the beginning of the Games. Most kills (made by the Careers, of course) occur in the first few minutes that the Games start. Very few make it out of the killings, either being too slow or their attention is caught by some spectacle: the Arena's environment itself, the killings happening around them, or something of interest within the confines of the Cornucopia. "Besides if anyone is coming back home, its going to be you."

Marko continues on as if I never uttered a word. "If everything goes to plan, we'll be the final two. I will kill myself then, slit my throat or stab myself in the chest."

"No you won't. I won't allow you to," I say horrified by his admission. "That won't be a problem. I'll just have to knock you unconscious first." He says this so nonchalantly that I almost don't believe him. But when I look into his eyes I can tell that his dead serious.

"How can you say something like that, be so laid-back about discussing killing yourself?"

"Because I'll be fine with facing death knowing that you'll still be here, alive and breathing."

"Do you honestly believe that I'll be fine with living on while you are dead, cold and stiff underground. I wouldn't be able to move on; I'd still be stuck in the arena, reliving losing you over and over. It would be unbearable, especially since I just got you." I grab the sides of his face, memorizing every small feature; the slight curve to his nose, his thick eye lashes and soft but calculating hazel eyes, his faintly chapped-lips, the small birthmark right where his jaw line meets his neck. I couldn't lose him. I wouldn't allow it. Now just the matter of how because no matter what I decide, he's going to give me hell, make me fight for it every step of the way.

He seemed to be able to read my mind, for his eyes narrowed in pain and suspicion. He makes to say something, but I never hear it because at the same time, the wooden door opens, revealing Leon and a blond woman in her mid twenties (Billie I guess), both wearing looks of relief.

"Sorry to interrupt, um, whatever was going on but we thought you two might want to see the Reaping recaps," says Leon with a knowing sad smile. 'Oh joy' I think sullenly. I look back to Marko, who nods his head silently. I climb from his lap and grab his hand once he stands. After the others leave, I pull his head down to whisper in his ear, "This is not over", before pulling him out of the room.


	5. Chapter 4

The train car we enter is wide and spacious. We pass by a very long dining table made of some wood, mahogany I think, which looks as if it seats at least twelve people, and head to where the sitting area is. Two love seats are on each side of a small glass table facing one another and a single chair is at the head, facing the large flat screen television set mounted on the wall.

Leon heads to one of the love seats while Billie flings herself on the other, stretching until her whole body has claimed it. I am heading to the seat next to Leon when Marko pulls me back, plopping down into the single seat and pulling me onto his lap. One of his arms settles around my waist, the other finds its place on the right arm rest.

For a second I think of pulling away but renounce the idea. This will be the last few times I will ever be able to have him like this, so I will enjoy it while lasts. _'I have nothing to lose,'_ I think leaning my head back on his shoulder.

"You two comfy yet," asks Billie. She's smirking but it doesn't reach her eyes. For some reason, they seem sad. But why are they? I don't know the answer. Marko makes a noncommittal 'eh' and shrugs his shoulders, lifting my head with the movement.

"Nice to know that's all I'm worth," I say to Marko, teasing him a bit. His grip tightens and he whispers in my ear, "Would've preferred staying with you in your room." I try my best to control the blush I feel creeping its way up my neck and keep my eyes trained forward. Billie reaches for the remote and turns on the TV. Immediately the Capitol's insignia appears on the black drop of the screen. Soon after Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith fills the void, beginning the recaps for the reapings.

They start at District 1. As soon as the escort asks for the female tribute, a blonde girl struts, not walk but struts, to the stage. She has the looks every guy fawns over and every girl would kill for. Initially I write her off as an air-headed (dangerous) bimbo. But for a second, so fast that I almost believe I imagined it, I see something flash in her emerald green eyes.

"We'll have to watch out for her," I say to Marko just as he mutters, "Let's keep an eye on Blondie." So he saw it too. The escort moves onto the male tribute. A muscular boy with a wide forehead makes his way up the stairs and takes position next to the girl, Glimmer, with an arrogant smirk. They're whisked off until they are shown entering the trains.

They then show the District 2 recaps. The escort there asks for female tributes. Three girls all start to make a mad dash for the stage, coming to blows right before the stairs. No one seems to see a

fourth girl walking slowly towards them completely relaxed with a cruel smile etched onto her face. When she reaches them, she grabs the head of the girl closes to her and smashes it on the stairs. The girl, a bloody mess, goes limp immediately. The other two look taken aback, which gives the newcomer ample opportunity to attack: She lunges at one, punching her in the face repeatedly on their descent down.

The other one standing breaks from her stupor, raising her leg with the intention to drop it down on the one who was currently pummeling the poor soul on the ground blocking her face. She misses barely; the MP (Major Psycho) moved faster than looked humanly possible, leaving the girl on the ground to take the brunt of the attack. By the time she has both of her feet on the ground, MP has gotten behind her.

Her arms wrap around the girl's throat, a hand is placed to the side of her head. If she wanted to she could easily break her neck. The girl knows this too, because the fight goes out of her. MP whispers something into the girl's ear. She nods, MP lets her go, smiling all the while, and she gets up limping away with her head down. Hardly anyone looks at her as she passes by; the ones who do look at her with distaste.

She receives no pity, no sympathy for she has deemed herself weak to the people of her District. I try to feel any understanding for her, but I can't; had the odds been in her favor she would have been the female tribute, and, ultimately, my enemy.

MP takes the stage and is greeted by the fear-ridden escort. "What-t's your n-name, sw-sw-sweetie?" MP gives a psychotic giggle and answers, "The names Clove."

"Well g-give it u-up f-f-for Clove, everyone." The crowd goes wild with applause for Clove, completely ignoring the fact that there are two unconscious girls on the ground. They're applause soon dies down and the escort moves on to call for a male tribute. Two step up and I feel that there is going to be a repeat of what happened earlier. But a man, no boy who must be eighteen steps forward.

The other two freeze in place right on opposite sides of the stairs resembling servants awaiting orders. The boy simply sneered at the two of them as he passed by, stepping over one of the downed girls. Once on stage he gave the cameras a shark grin as he told that his name was Cato.

Peacekeepers come to usher Cato and Clove to the Justice Building. The cameras zoom back to when they're heading to the trains. After letting themselves be photographed, they board.

Districts 1 and 2 seem like they will be very formidable foes. But when aren't they? After the District 2 recaps I lose interest. Most of the rest of the Districts are unassuming, which isn't really surprising though I expected more from District 4. The girl seemed okay for a career, but the boy seemed… weak.

I see only three that catch my attention. The girl from District 3 had an eye patch covering her right eye. With that disability she doesn't stand a chance. Neither does the boy from District 5 with his deformed arm. His District partner on the other hand might hold a challenge. The red head moved and had the resemblance of a fox; she seemed sneaky, making her someone to watch out for.

The part I dreaded most had finally come. The District 10 reaping recaps. Our reaping recaps. I subconsciously burrow myself back into Marko as I hear Fuchsia call out my name. I look as I watch myself try to console Lena after the initial death sentence has been placed. I see myself break from the crowd and join the procession of peacekeepers moving toward the stage. In comes Marko riding Milo at full gallop towards- the camera rolling suddenly stops.

"Due to technical difficulties, the District 10 reaping recaps have been put on hiatus and will unfortunately not be available for viewing," drones the voice of Claudius Templesmith.

"How very unfortunate, indeed" interjects Caesar, changing the subject immediately to a quick discussion of fashion in the Capitol.

"Technical difficulties my ass," says Leon. "The only reason they don't want to air the recaps is because they don't want to publicize even the slightest amount of rebellion. Wouldn't want to spark off a chain reaction, would they? Those narcissistic bas-""Leon," says Billie cutting him off mid rant.

He seems to realize just what he was saying and where he was, because he turns around to scan the room to see if he was overheard. Thankfully, there isn't anyone but us in hearing range though that doesn't really mean anything. The chances of this Capitol train being bugged is more likely than not.

"You good now, Leon?" asks Marko. He just simply nods his head, looking a little sheepish. I try to get his mind off of the mishap by saying, "Look at the bright side, everybody. No one knows about our- no my- fighting capabilities."

"What about me?" asks Marko.

"If you recall they didn't show the recaps and you weren't officially reaped as tribute, you were made tribute as punishment and as far the rest of the country is concerned, you are unknown completely."

"True," says Billie. "Speaking of that, do you two-"

"And now we present you with the District 11 reaping recaps," booms the overly energetic voice of Caesar Flickerman, effectively cutting off whatever Billie was about to say and ending our conversation.

Our attention is brought back to the screen in time to see a little girl, no more than thirteen with curly black hair, take the stage next to her District's escort and our District escorts sister, Magenta. The girl stands on the tips of her toes with her hands extended slightly off to her sides, making her look like a bird about to take flight.

She reminds me so much of Lena at that age, and it pains me when no one volunteers to take her place when Magenta asks. The silly-looking Capitolian moves to the male tribute ball.

"Thresh Blalock!" Her voice rings in the still air as a boy the size of Cato walks forward. As he makes his way to stand next to the girl, he nods his head once at her, who does the same with a small smile. Magenta asks for volunteers for Thresh, no one responds, and then they are both taken away to the Justice Building and, ultimately, the train station.

"And now last but not least, we present you with the District 12 reaping recaps."

The small, gloomy, coal-covered District appears on the screen. Effie Trinket in all of her pink-powdered glory flounces around on the stage as she gives her speech on the wonders of the Capitol. What they find so damn grand about the shipment of children to their deaths bewilders me to no end.

The sullen looking mayor, something Undersee, gives his speech then passes the control back to Effie. She then makes her way to the girl tribute ball. Everyone in the crowd instinctively tenses in the suspenseful few minutes that she twirls the ball. She stops it, digs through the piles of slips, and pulls one up, dooming whoever's name is written on it.

"Primrose Everdeen"

Looks of relief are evident on many faces, but the most visible emotion on display is shock. Out steps a little blonde girl, about the same age as the other girl from District 11. Pity and tears of grief are shed among those who look on as she passes. I glance to my right when I feel a hand brush my cheek.

"Shhh. Its okay," says Marko. Only then do I realize that I'm crying. The tears flow freely, steadily down my cheeks.

"It isn't. Nothing about this is okay," I respond. Two twelve year olds are heading to their deaths and I might have to kill one or both of them. Marko doesn't respond; there's really nothing he can say that would make it any better.

On the screen disruption is occurring in a certain area of the sixteen year old section. A brunette girl is shoving against the attempts of peacekeepers trying to hold her back. She manages to slip through and shouts something nearly in audible, but from how the peacekeepers are looking, whatever it is surprises them.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

Everyone is deathly silent. On screen and off no one speaks.

"Did she really just say what I think she said," asks Caesar Flickerman.

"Yes, I believe she did," answers Claudius. "This is quite the shocker."

It goes back to shots of the girl. The little blonde runs to the girl crying, screaming, holding on so tightly that you can see how pale her knuckles are. The whole scene reminds me of Lena's reaction. I want to look away, but I can't. The girl mummers something to her on her level and then she is taken away by some guy out of the roped off area. The brunette's face is a cold mask, seemingly indifferent, hiding away whatever inner turmoil is battling inside of her.

As she grudgingly takes her place on stage, Effie asks the girl her name.

"Katniss. Katniss Everdeen."

Effie practically beams- it makes me want to punch her in the face- because this is most likely the only amount excitement she has ever gained from the District. "By God, I'd bet that Primrose is your sister."

"Yes"

"Didn't want her to steal all of the glory from you, huh?" She receives no answer and must realize that there won't be one because she moves on. "Well give it up for Katniss Everdeen," she shouts out over the microphone.

Instead of applause, the people in the audience all kiss the three middle fingers of their left hands and hold them out in front of them in a salute, almost as if they had planned to do so. Effie quickly moves onto the male tribute and without the slightest hesitation calls out the name.

"Peeta Mellark"

Recognition flashes in Katniss's eyes before the blank stare returns to roam over the stocky blonde boy who joins her side. They briefly shake hands, Peeta trying to catch her eye; Katniss avoiding his gaze like it's a deadly disease, before they are taken to the Justice Building to say their final goodbyes.

The camera feed picks back up to the two boarding the train. Katniss still has the vacant gaze, which is trained on the camera, on display, but deep within burns the steady flame of what looks like determination. It feels as if she's staring me down, keeping my gaze from straying any where further. It only breaks when she looks away, and boards the train with her District partner.

As the recaps end and Claudius and Caesar babble on about the prospects of this year Games, as the conversation breaks out between Leon, Marko, and Billie, I realize one thing; Katniss Everdeen, the girl from District 12, will be my biggest threat, my greatest enemy in successfully sending Marko back home. She'll be the deciding factor in which the rest of my days will be spent.

The question I have to answer is what will happen in the arena. It's more likely than not I'll have to face her. Hopefully the odds will be in my favor, but considering the past events, that might only be a pipe dream.

'_Oh Joy'_


End file.
